Year || 503 Season || Fall Temp || 35℉ (℃) - 69℉ (℃) Weather || The iron grip of Summer has slowly faded into the gentler Fall embrace. The morning dew frosts over in the early morning hours and melts by the time the sun hits high in the sky. Many of the trees have traded their lush, vivid green for a more suitable array of red and orange hues. But don't blink, for Winter's cold embrace is fast upon Fall's heels.

"Are there lines she's crossing? Should she toe them or touch them with a pole and stay away wholly? But to avoid such a storm he offers, such a taste of life; to withhold herself from the chance to taste starlight, to love satin and silk and swallow pomegranate seeds not yet offered... She should be stronger." — Moira in Small as a wish in a well

Phrixus flew over this new island. History, he’d found, was doomed to repeat itself. It was an eternal cycle of disappointment. Everywhere he went, he found himself incomplete. He hadn’t felt comfortable in his own skin since he couldn’t remember when. He beat his wings harshly against the fall winds, the brisk chill not even enough to stop him from flying. Phrixus climbed higher and higher into the sky, his breath coming short, eyes tingling with tears as the oxygen began to deplete from his body. Just when the water droplets that had accumulated on his wings began to freeze, he stopped.

Plummeting back down to earth, he closed his eyes. The ground was still far enough away that he was comfortable. Upside down and back to the earth, he let himself fall. One of these days he wouldn’t be able to catch himself, but the man doubted that today was one of those days. The wind whipped his hair around his face and he barrel rolled, twisting up and pushing his wings out to catch the winds once more. A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, and the warrior smiled. Adrenaline helped him feel normal again, helped him feel the rush that he so craved. He’d yet to have really found himself a home somewhere, the soldier in him constantly on edge and begging for a good scrap.

Phrixus had found that freefalling from dangerous heights gave him the rush he needed. The giant ocean themed Pegasus yelled into the winds, frustrated. He grit his teeth, his one good eye searching for a good place to land. As was his nature, he found himself landing upon a cliff, the wind still howling at his back. Standing at the very edge, teetering there, he inhaled deeply. He was so lost these days, unsure of what to do with himself anymore. A lot of times he was filled with so much emotion that he felt like he’d explode. Other times, he felt like a blank canvas, open to suggestions. He was a soldier at heart, and needed to be one once again. His foolish pride would have no other way.

Watching out of the new kingdom that he’d happened upon, Phrixus folded his wings tightly to his sides. He wondered if any people who lived here were around? He knew that this was going to be his home now, and in fact, knew that if he wanted a challenge, he’d have to live in a terrain so unlike any other he’d lived in. Time to move from mountains and snow, to desert caves and sun. He nodded, thinking about how he’d try to make it work. Feeling more at peace with himself after his freefall, Phrixus closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind pushing and pulling at him as he stood at the cliff’s edge.

ooc: Open to all! First post on the site! <3 This is mostly just ramblings, but God bless whoever replies lol.

Eik watches the acrobat with bated breath and a resigned sort of jealousy. He would give most anything to fly.

(in his head a sniggering voice- that's easy to say for someone with so little to give.

He would argue the opposite is true. The less you have the more it means to you. But you never win the argument with yourself.)

Eventually, the man lands. Standing far above Eik, silhouetted by the bright blue sky, it looks at though he was cut from the cliff itself. A fine Solterran gargoyle.

There is no real reason for why Eik feels compelled to join the stranger. He very often often has the appearance of doing everything with great thought, for he moves and speaks with a certain sense of deliberation. And he does often act on carefully analyzed logic, but the truth is that he sometimes does things just for the hell of it.

The cliffside is no easy ascent for we unlucky ones bound to land. For the most part, the sandstone is grippier than other types of rocks, but it is still easy to slip and fall. More importantly the rattlers love to sunbathe here, where a shadowy crevice is just a quick slink away. But Eik is a determined man, and a rather quiet one- he'd rather haul himself to the top of the cliff than yell for the stranger's attention.

He selects the Northeastern slope for his ascent, where the winds blow from the terminus sea, bringing some moisture with them. This condenses on the sandstone at night and eats away at it, slowly wearing down the cliff to a slightly more gentle slope. A combination of grace, tact, and recklessness makes him a strong climber, but by the time he reaches the top he's lightheaded with breathlessness and a quickly fading sense of victory.

(He tries to ignore a particularly nagging thought playing on repeat- going down is the hard part)

At the top of the cliff, the massive pegasus is still standing there with the kingdom beneath him and the sea at his back. At the sight Eik remembers with an ache gentle Vadim and the way they stood atop the walls of a canyon with the wind tugging at them like an old friend. He remembers with an ache how they talked of the future, and god, and he remembers most achingly how his friend was never seen again.

It takes a few minutes for his breath to stop heaving in hot, heavy gusts. Meanwhile his sweat dries quickly in the warm, dry air and his mind settles and soon enough he appears just as he always does- dirty and calm (even with home hundreds of feet below him and no elevator service).

"What's your story?" Eik asks just loud enough to be heard over the whistle of the wind, just loud enough for his voice to reach the giant who stands just a few lengths away. He knows better than to get too close to the stranger who towers over him, not before getting a better sense of the man. All he can do in the mean time is convey his earnest lack of aggression, and to this effect he lowers and extends his muzzle in friendly greeting.

There was something to be said about being on the edge of the world. You could really find yourself here. With your body so close to dropping, there was nothing stopping gravity from yanking you down to your filthy and very bloody end. Yes, Phrixus knows that he can't die from falling, what kind of Pegasus [i]wouldn't[/i] snap open their wings and save themselves? But he knows that for some, this could be it. That adrenaline feeling, is it or isn't it going to happen? Is today the day? It could really break a man, make him think of his past, his present, his future. He hoped that for most it was a daredevil choice to be up here, and not for other reasons.

Looking out towards the bustling and sprawling city that was the Daycourt, Phrixus shuffled in place. With his wings teathered tightly to his back, he knew squinted. The desert really was a different home for him. The mountain man, used to snow and howling wings, was having a hard time adjusting to the whipping sand filled winds, and the scorching heat. Sweat beaded his coat, creating an almost muddy film as the sand stuck to him. The sound of someone approaching had him turning an ear back to listen. It sounded as though someone was very determined to get up these cliffs to see him. As far as he knew, there wasn't a soul in this land who knew that he'd joined the herd. Or a soul at all on the island who knew he'd sailed here.

Turning his whole body around, Phrixus smiled warmly at the other stallion. He could tell the other was wary of him, giving him plenty of space. [i]Probably for good reason,[/i] Phrixus thought. Most people were afraid of him, judging him by his appearance. He was a General, of course he was bound to look this way. Scars, holes, ripped appendages and all... But they didn't know that he'd fathered and raised many children, that he'd taken many loves in his life. He was a kind man, but one ruled by order and a stiff upper lip.

"I come from a far away land, seeking refuge and trying to remake myself." Phrixus mulled the words over in his mind, wondering if he'd either said too much, or maybe not enough. Not one to overspeak, he left his reply the way it was. The other man would take it how he would. Not offering his name, Phrixus at least turned to show more attention to this new acquaintance.

ooc: Thanks for replying! <3 I'm hoping to get him some new friends c:

He knows better than to judge a man by his scars. He knows that each has a story, carved into skin like braille. Eik knows because he himself is a book that has never been read.

(a book that keeps writing itself in a sprawl of run-on sentences and parentheses and repetition-- repetition-- repetition!-- a broken record still plays to a beat, and where there is rhythm there is pattern there is meaning)

Solterra seems a beacon for those with crooked and broken pasts. They hope that they will be made pure beneath the light of Solis, like sun-bleached bones. They think the heat will sweat out all the bad in them, and one day they will rise purified by the blaze of the desert sun.

These lofty dreams are never realized, of course-- but Solterra is not without gifts. Eik is not quite sure if he's found his yet, but he feels it somewhere out there, beating like the slow heartbeat of a massive beast beneath the sand. Without thinking he prods with his mind at the desert the same way you would stroke a healing wound to feel the scab and the fresh skin beneath. There is an uncanny feeling of being prodded in return.

"What is it you would remake yourself into." He looks at the desert sprawling before them, eyes following the snaking curves of the Mors. "And why here?"

He was unsurprised when the other an asked him what he would remake himself into. Would he follow Poseidon and become a God of the Sea? Would he be alone and aloof for his life, or become a staple in a higher regime? Phrixus was unsure. The hot sun blazed above them, causing him to squint as he looked around. He would be lying if he said the question didn’t pose a problem inside of him. ”I suppose that I chose this place because while it is volatile and ever changing, it is also predictable. Take for example, the sun is always hot, the sand always stinging in the wind. But today could be dreadfully stale, while tomorrow could be unforgiving, harsh windstorms tearing away at the very fabric of this land. Trees down, people buried alive. And yet, it offers a paradise as well. It is changing, and yet, predictable.” He blinked, trying to clear the sand from his eyes.”I am much like this place. I may change my path like the wind parts the grass, but I am forever bound to who I am. My ideals have never wavered, yet my path has changed quicker than the hands of a clock could spin.”ooc: Sorry this took so long! <3 I also feel like it doesn’t make any sense lol.

Eik wonders how he would answer if asked the same question. It is hard to say because he's never had much interest in reinventing himself, rewriting his story. In some ways he has resigned himself to fate and he's floating, floating, floating down the river. When he closes his eyes he can hear it, the flow of the deep water beneath and around him. It is comforting, sometimes, to give himself to the water.

The truth after all these years is that he was running with his ghosts, not from them.

The other man begins to speak. Eik had submitted the cliffside with no expectations, and his question was born of simple curiosity and not a test of character or motive. To his surprise, the stranger's honest and thoughtful answer is not so different from how Eik would have responded-- the idea of it, at least. The grey would have used less words.

This is no interrogation, and so Eik simply nods his head in understanding. "My name is Eik." When did he start to seem so at ease here, with his tail dancing in the dry breeze and the sweat crusted on his flanks? When did he start to feel protective of this place, possessive even? More importantly, what will become of his ghosts, now that he has stopped running? He can feel them gather close around him, hungry and impatient. He does not know what they're waiting for.

Eik tilts his head and looks at the imposing stranger. Finally he offers a small smile. "This place will test your unwavering ideals, you know." His voice is smooth and steady and his words are not meant to intimidate or threaten. It is not even a warning, just... a thought. Eik had not expected Solterra to change him the way it did, slowly, bit by bit, until one day he looked inside and realized everything was just a little different. It is not a good or bad thing, it just is.

He is surprised when he glances down and sees how long his shadow has grown when he was not looking. "I best be going before the sun sets." He looks down the small mountain, mentally preparing himself for the descent. It would be so much easier to have wings, even if they were tattered as Phrixus'.

"I hope you find what you're looking for here." his voice is guarded, for his words are a hope and not an expectation. He's seen the desert grind down man after man. Most of them come as Eik and Phrixus had, with the intent of starting a new chapter in their lives. Some seek to burn the previous chapters, others to bury them in the sand.